Light's Shadow, Darkness' Light
by Duo Himura
Summary: An Alternate Universe fic for the game Bokura no Taiyou, following the adventures of Solar Boy Django, as well as a number of other original and canon characters... This was supposed to be a cool scene setting thing, but apparently the word limit is reall
1. Chapter 1

_Let me begin by saying… my Fanfiction writing habbits are incomprehensible to myself, so I don't expect anyone else to get them. I write one fanfic for the series I'm like obsessed with (Rurouni Kenshin), and then I end up getting an idea for one for a game I've played all of 4 levels in (seriously… at the moment I have yet to purifyMuspell… though personally, I blame the sun for setting at like 4:30 around here now…). Now, as you may guess, this means I have very little grasp of Boktai's overall plot. I mean, I didn't even know that it's real name was Bokura no Taiyou or that Taiyou meant "sun," until about 2 days ago…So I'm going to say it up front, this story is going to be heavily AU, probably including many OCs, and will likely NOT fit very well with the true story, though I will make an effort to see more of that to get a better grasp on what some of the characters are supposed to be like. Sabata, for instance, I won't be able to do much with outside of his mysterious act in the beginning of the game until I know some more about him (this does not mean I want spoilers…), and then I'll need to decide if I want to take his character in that same direction or not._

_So, to borrow a phrase from Shakespeare and use it completely out of context… "With patient ears attend." And constructive criticism is welcome, I wrote this whole thing because a friend, Kaya, (aka Kaya Kyra) wanted to know if I could write non-samurai-style fight scenes, so I decided to give Boktai a shot because she convinced me to pick it up again after not playing it in forever, and I found out it was actually a lot cooler than I remembered. Personally I don't think it's a bad place to start off, but…shrugs _

**Light's Shadow, Darkness' Light**

**Chapter 1: Firelight**

"Ah… Solar Boy… Django, is it? I've been expecting you… do come in…" the voice rang out clearly, malice and authority dripping from every syllable, just underneath the cover of mock hospitality.

"Save your host act for someone who cares, Count. I'm here to kill you." The blonde boy replied, walking into the dark room, the door slamming shut behind him. The circular room had a sun roof in the center, covered now, of course, and was lined with pillars of white stone, with the door on a small, elevated platform extending about head height above the floor. Intricate patterns crossed each other towards the center, with designs of celestial bodies prevalent among them, and up from this surface, the count floated into the air, until he was level with the boy, his dark cloak billowing around him, his red eyes piercing the darkness.

"My, my, we are in a hurry," the Count answered, mock concern in his voice. His pale, grayish skin was barely visible, covered by the dark hair that fell over his forehead and partially obscured by his beard as well. His eyes never leaving the odd-looking gun in the boy's hand, which he had raised to follow the Count's motion, the Count continued, "Why such a rush? The night is still young…"

The boy's response was to pull the trigger on the strange weapon in his hand, and a beam of light shot from the odd lens atop the gun, striking a second lens placed at the opposite end of the silver device, where it was narrowed further, becoming a fast moving blast of golden yellow light, streaking through the air straight at the Count's head. With an effortless motion, the Count tilted his head slightly, and the beam passed by the tip of his right, pointed ear, ripping several hairs from his head in the process.

The count made a small clicking sound with his tongue, gazing back at the boy with his glowing red eyes. The boy did indeed look something like his father, that much the Count admitted. But whatever underhanded trick he had used against the former, defeating this inexperienced child should be no more difficult than crushing any other human beneath him. He noted with amusement that the boy wore his father's scarf, the ends of the tattered red fabric trailing almost to the ground. Still, that look in his eyes… it was far too similar to the one that the Count had been sure was his death staring him in the face.

"Very well, then. I see you've inherited your father's lack of manners as well. Well, like father like son, they say in this world, do they not?" the Count mocked, thrusting his cloak apart to reveal the dark suit he wore underneath. And in the next instant, he was gone.

The boy leapt to the left, jarring his shoulder against the stone floor as he hit it, and bringing his sideways leap into completion with a rolling landing that left him crouching, clutching his injured shoulder. An instant after his feet had left the ground, the Count's claws had swung down where he was swinging, a near miss from an attack that would have rent him in two, more than likely. An odd, grating sound filled the air as the Count's claws tore through the stone, leaving small grooves in the surface of the rock.

Whirling and leaping back to his feet at the same time, the Solar Boy fired off a burst of three shots at the Count's dark figure. The golden light streaked across the room at the Count, casting light on parts of the room as lightning casts light upon a landscape, bathing an area in light for the briefest of instants. But just as the shots were about to reach the count's body, he was suddenly two feet to the left of where he had just been, drifting lazily to one side as if the motion was no faster than taking a single, slow step, and the shots harmlessly struck the stone wall next to the door, leaving three circular patches of light behind, which quickly faded back to the gray color of the stone.

The Count charged the young boy, his body stretched out behind his head, claws poised for a strike. Django fired off another burst of shots, trying to move the gun to keep up with the Count's motion, but every time he pulled the trigger, it seemed the Count was suddenly just far enough away from his original position to make the shot miss. The Count closed the remaining distance between them in an instant, sweeping at Django with his claws. Django jumped, twisting left as he did to avoid a claw slash that would have torn his rib cage in two, taking it rather on the right shoulder. He collapsed to his knees in pain as the Count flew past, assuming a standing, nonchalant position once again as Django gasped in pain.

No blood dripped from the wound, it was instantly drained by the Count's claws, leaving a set of cuts that seemed like they had already begun to heal. Django knew enough from his father to know that this was just the appearance, wounds from an Immortal, or any undead were infused with some of the creature's dark energy, repellent of all life, and making the healing process longer and more complicated. Already, Django felt his shoulder begin to go numb with cold that seemed to radiate from the wound itself.

Grimacing, Django climbed back to his feet, facing the Count, who merely laughed, an unpleasant laugh of sadistic pleasure. Glancing at his fingers as if bored, the Count watched as the red liquid that still colored them faded, drawing itself directly into his flesh, feeling the thrill he always did from emptying warm blood into his long-dead body, even in this small quantity. He looked back up to see the Solar Boy pointing the gun at him once more, a grim, determined look in his eyes. The Count grinned to himself, then charged forward again.

Django rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding another strike of the Count's black claws, feeling the disturbance of the air at his passage. Brining himself around in a circle, he fired off another three rounds at the Count's exposed back. Swinging his legs up to face the other way, the Count brought himself into a mid-air summersault of sorts, charging back at the Solar Boy, who lazily avoided the shots that the Solar Boy fired off again and again.

The Count launched himself at Django again, bringing his right hand across in a slash aimed at the boy's face. Django raised the gun in his hand, firing off a quick burst of shots into the Count's arm at point blank just before it would have connected with his head. The sleeve of the Count's suit was torn to shreds in an instant; his grayed flesh was stripped from his arm, dissolving into wisps of darkness, leaving a patch where white bone was visible. Swinging his arm out, Django brought the gun to bear on the Count's face. He pulled the trigger, and in that brief instant as the beam of light traveled between the two lenses, the Count vanished, in his place appeared a swarm of bats, which scattered in all directions as the blast discharged harmlessly into open air.

Reaching instinctively for the switch on the side of the gun's smooth surface, Django was raising his gun to the nearest clump of bats even as the lens atop the barrel end of the gun reversed itself. As he pulled the trigger, golden light flooded from the second lens, dispersed along an arc instead of focused into a beam, neatly catching all of the bats in one shot, their dark forms distorting for an instant, then dissolving completely into wisps of black smoke.

Turning in a circle, Django brought the gun to bear on each clumping of bats as they tried to fly away, dissolving into black smoke as the golden light engulfed them, stripping their flesh away like fog fleeing a gust of wind. The black smoke vanished in the golden light, drifting slowly through the air, with such an eased pace that the Solar Boy missed its true direction.

The black smoke gathered around one bat that had escaped Django's scrutiny, currently, suspended in the air over his head and behind him. As the smoke gathered itself around the bat, and it seemed to be absorbed into the creature's dark flesh, the process becoming obscured as the smoke swirled around the small bat, whose form was beginning to grow larger as the smoke drained into it.

Slowly, the bat's shape began to alter, and a moment later, the count was hovering in the air where the bat had been, looking as uninjured as he had when Django first entered the room. Thinking that he had eliminated all the bats, Django was panting heavily, clutching at the wound on his shoulder, the icy coldness of it like daggers stabbing at his consciousness.

A feral cry escaped the Count's lips as he threw himself through the air straight at Django's back, and in an instant, the Solar Boy had whirled around to meet him. Django tried to raise his gun to fire at the Count, but the numbness was spreading throughout his arm, and his muscles were no longer free for him to command as he pleased. The Count cleared the distance between them before Django could even bring the gun to bear, and with one claw, knocked the arm holding it aside with such force that the pain registered all throughout the boy's arm, despite the numbing affect of his injury. The gun flew, spinning through the air then skidding along the ground until it met the square base of one of the columns, far beyond any reach.

The Count roughly seized Django's shoulders as the boy tried to roll to the side, his nails biting into the boy's shoulder blades, blood flowing freely from the wounds only to fade away into the Count's icy fingers. Django cried in pain, struggling to free himself, then losing his voice completely as his movements sent the Count's claws further into his skin, he could feel them etching lines into his bones as they rubbed against them, sending waves of pain and nausea throughout his body. The Count's mouth flew open in a snarl; his elongated fangs stained reddish yellow from the blood that had passed through them. Opening his mouth wide, the Count reached forward to bite into the unprotected flesh of the Solar Boy's neck.

Django was barely aware of anything except the pain that seemed to encompass his entire being, and the knowledge that he was about to die, just as his father had. He tried to steel himself for the fatal blow, praying it would be a quick, easy death, but in spite of everything he felt hot tears pricking at his eyes. He had accomplished nothing. He had succeeded in nothing. And now his death would end any chance of him doing so in the future. He couldn't imagine ever facing his father again… not after he had failed so miserably to avenge his death.

Through tear-distorted eyes, Django saw a bright flash of light, and in an instant, the Count's claws were torn from his back, tearing lines in flesh too cold to feel the pain, scattering blood across the boy's back and shoulders. As Django collapsed to his knees in pain, he heard a soft thudding noise as the Count's body was slammed to the ground. A large blade protruded from his head, caving in the man's face before it, splitting apart both flesh and bone. Dark, inhuman blood spilled from the wound in the meager quantities the Immortal possessed, and his mouth worked itself open and closed, trying to utter something, but finding no breath to do so.

The blade itself was a bizarre contraption, with the tip only buried in the Count's face. The rest of the blade was spread out behind it light links in a chain, joined together by crackling auras of golden lighting that leaped to and back away from small shining yellow crystals that were suspended about halfway between each section of the blade and the next. The blade itself was yellow in color, glowing with energy in the dark room, runes etched into its hard surface.

"Taiyou!" cried a voice from behind Django, and golden light flooded the room, as a current of energy seemed to travel down the blade, making it glow ever brighter. As the light reached the point where the blade entered the Count's face, the Count's mouth flew open in a silent scream, his body instantly scattering into clumps of black smoke that flew back in the direction the blade came from, as the blade itself retracted from where it had been.

Django turned his head to look at the blade's wielder, and even that small action seemed to drain what little remained of his strength. He saw a boy who looked to be his own age, messy blonde hair, bleached almost white by the sun, hanging over amber eyes that were fiercer than any hawk's could be, and a face set with a grim, determined stare that seemed etched in stone. A dark cloak covered the other boy's body, concealing most else except for his face, which now turned its stone cold glare on Django himself.

"_This_ is the extolled Solar Boy Django? Our supposed savior from darkness, and the one destined to return the light of the sun to this accursed land? You… you who could not even defeat such a weak Immortal… how can you truly be the legendary vampire slayer who will save this world? You who were nearly killed by such a pathetic enemy… you have no right to call yourself a Solar Child… let alone lay claim to the title of savior." The other boy's voice was as much like a hawk as the rest of him, harsh, unforgiving, with the self-conviction of one who fights for his life every day, and was now set upon Django in anger. Django gazed back at the other boy, too stunned to try and act as the world collapsed in around him, and everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's notes: While I realize that this is a tad late…a lot of the stuff I am about to mention didn't really come up in the past chapter, not to mention the fact that I've developed a good deal more of the overall plot line, including about half of what occurs in this chapter, in between the two. _

_For starters, I never really considered the fact that I'm hoping to attract some non-Boktai fandom readers, this being an AU story, after all. So I'll start this off with a basic summary of Boktai's back story, which WOULD have gone in the summary, if the thing wasn't so limited…_

_Basically, vampiric undead called Immortals who… I guess are supposed to be from another Solar System or whatever, appeared on Earth, and start killing things, and making them into undead armies, which they then use to kill more things. All the world's Vampire Slayers die fighting them, with Django's father being the last, to fall in the Undeadening (turning things into undead) of San Miguel. From him, Django inherits the Gun Del Sol, and the red scarf-thing he wears, and is at some point sent to Istrakan (or comes of his own will) from San Miguel to combat the Immortals there, and I suppose to take revenge on the Count. And there's the abridged version… you want the full, dramatic version, go look it up on an official website, I'm not retyping everything printed in the instruction manual._

_Secondly…It has come to my attention that the Solar Gun, Gun Del Sol, and the Dark Gun, Gun Del Hell are both using Spanish or something to that effect… I'm a Latin person myself (Spanish is based off of Latin anyway…), so for those who care, that's the language I'm using for weapon names, possibly titles or anything like that, and spells as well. I'm going to include some notes at the end explaining what words and/or phrases mean, and I'm apologizing in advance for any improper use of cases or tenses, because I know I'll mess something out, but being that I'm using snatches of Latin in English dialogue, I think that much can be forgiven (or I hope so…)_

_Now… on to some matters concerning names and such…Now, I'm not entirely sure if this is accurate, but the feeling that I got is that Solar Child refers to a tribe of people, and Solar Boy refers to Django, exclusively. Now, I'm not especially fond of that, because referring to someone you know the gender of using a non-gender-discriminatory word like "child," can be sort of weird. Assuming I haven't already messed this up, I'm going to proceed by using Solar Boy/Girl and Solar Child interchangeably, intending to capitalize Boy when referring to Django in particular. And for the record, this applies to Sabata as well, and "Child," is being used as in "Children of the Sun/Moon/of Darkness," not that anyone referred to by that must actually be under a certain age. The reason for this is simply that "Solar Man/Woman," sounds really weird… "Solar Warrior," isn't much better either._

_To clarify: The OC introduced in the end of the previous chapter is not some uber-powerful guy… he's pretty experienced, and Django is not at the moment, and he's also pretty strong, but the major difference here is that the Count of Bloodrust Mansion isn't as powerful as he was in the normal Boktai universe… This does raise the question of how he defeated Django's father, but I plan on getting into that later on, and I have my own theory, which may or may not be used in place of the normal one, once I have some more information from playing to the end of the game. Regardless, he isn't at the level where he can be considered "Lord of the Undead Immortals," or whatever he's supposed to be…In terms of royalty, count isn't that high up anyway, far as I know…Anyway, just thought I'd mention that I'm not introducing a character I plan to have overshadow Django completely in terms of strength, and that there will still be plenty of stronger opponents out there._

_Aaaand… I think that's about it…having wasted over a page of space now… sigh Anyway, enjoy the second chapter. I'm going somewhere with this, trust me! Might just take a little while…_

**Light's Shadow, Darkness' Light**

Chapter 2: Dark Side of the Moon

_Father…_The word floated through Django's mind, gazing up at the figure standing over him. Blonde hair fell to his shoulders, from which hung a long, ragged, travel stained cloak. His face was obscured by the bright light that seemed to be shining from directly behind him, the red scarf wrapped around his neck flapping in the wind. He tried to get up, to run to the man before him, but his body seemed beyond his control. The barren landscape before him fell away, an endless plain dissolving completely into blackness, except for the light that shone from straight ahead, blindingly intense, yet illuminating nothing.

Then suddenly, life sprang back into Django's limbs, and he was running through the vast black expanse. But with each step he took, it seemed his father was drifting even further away, as if he were running in the exact opposite direction. The scarf fell from his father's neck, as Django kept running with all of his strength. He opened his mouth to utter a cry, but no sound emerged. A bright flash of light exploded from behind Django's father, and then, he was gone.

Django woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and panting for breath. The sun was just setting on the horizon, casting long shadows across the empty courtyard. Overhead, Bloodrust Mansion loomed, its dark windows having lost none of their foreboding hostility, its malice as potent as ever, despite the removal of its lord. Django lay near the courtyard's great iron gate, sitting upon the cold stone that paved the interior of the ancient stone wall encircling the area.

"Good, you're awake. I wasn't about to wait here all night," said a cold voice off to Django's left. The traditional greeting of one returning to consciousness held none of its customary relief, or even a vestige of concern.

"Uh…" groaned Django, still breathing heavily from his sudden awakening. The pain in his shoulder and back seemed to have subsided, in their place, however, was a dull numbness that suggested the use of anesthetics, by contrast to the sharp, bitter coldness of an untreated vampiric wound. Examining himself in the rapidly fading light, he saw that his wounds had been bandaged underneath his shirt, which was mostly clean of blood due to the comparatively small amount that had not been drained into the Count's body.

Looking to his side, Django saw the same boy who had appeared in the middle of his fight with the Count, and killed the immortal. The boy's amber eyes gleamed in what little light still shone into the courtyard, his expression no less hostile now than it had been in battle. The ornamented hilt of the blade he had used to kill the Count with was visible, poking over his shoulder, the rest of him still obscured by the tattered cloak that wrapped around his shoulders.

"I treated your wounds with a salve that's specially designed to help wounds from the undead, they should heal relatively quickly. You've been given a second chance; I suggest you take it. Go home." _Go home…_the two words were simple, but loaded with a cold contempt that bore all the bitter chill of winter.

"So that's it? I'm just… just supposed to give up and forget about everything because of one defeat? I'm a Solar Child, the same as you! It's our duty to stop the undead! I'm not about to give that up just because you say that I'm too weak! If I'm not strong enough, I'll become stronger! I won't just turn this task over to whoever happens to take it up and leave it in their hands while I sit doing nothing!" Django cried. He couldn't, no wouldn't give up, not while he could still carry on his father's mission. Not if it meant his father's death had been in vain.

"Fine. I honestly don't care what you do. Keep playing at being a Solar Child, and expend your second chances and your luck until you finally find yourself at your death, and at that time, know that you have only yourself to blame for it. I don't have time to waste arguing with you, I have to get to a Pile Driver by tomorrow and purify that Immortal. Not that I expect you to know about such things." With that, he turned and started to walk away, the fading rays of the sun catching on the hilt of his sword, the yellow gems set into it sparkling with amber fire.

Stopping suddenly, he added, "I'll tell you this much. Unless you can devote yourself to this mission, mind, body, and soul, throwing all else aside, you'll never be a real Vampire Slayer. Not until you can cast off your hesitation and kill anyone standing in your way will you truly be deserving of that title."

Django stood, watching him as he walked off, past the black iron gate and into the path beyond it, leading deep into the forest, where he quickly disappeared into darkness. For a while afterward, he stood there, feeling the chill of the night sink into his skin as the sky faded to black and the sun disappeared over the horizon, bringing dawn, somewhere in the world.

Turning his back on the gate at long last, Django lay down, wrapping his scarf around himself in a makeshift blanket of sorts, and falling asleep quickly. From the gate above him, a dark figure watched with amusement, then, turning his back on the scene, jumped to the earth, and quietly vanished into the dawning night.

_Fool…_he thought, walking through the darkness, the silence broken only occasionally by the stirrings of the animals of the forest. The moon above was a slender crescent in the sky, the stars bright and clear, together providing enough light to see by to those below. The boy reached up and wiped a lock of hair away as it fell across his face. This path wasn't the fastest means of getting where he wanted to go, but he preferred to walk along it, to see another sign of the civilization that might never again exist, to remind himself of the people who had died. His pace quickened, though he couldn't do anything until sunrise, regardless of when he arrived at the Pile Driver, anger stirred within him now, a silent rage oblivious to such logic.

Sleep was unnecessary. Any time you weren't ready for anything was dangerous, particularly at night, so he had long ago learned that going without sleep for long periods of time was no real challenge for him. Food and water were available whenever he might need them; they were no necessity at the moment. The only thing he needed to do was destroy the undead spirit currently contained in the spirit bottle held in his belt. The seal was only good for a day or so, but it was more efficient than dragging a coffin around in any case. It also didn't afford the spirit a place where it could try to hide from the Pile Driver's attack.

The Solar boy moved on through the night; if the cold even registered in his mind, his unchanging expression didn't show it. He moved on through the night, continuously placing one foot before the other, the same grim, determined, angry expression on his face. He knew the route back to the Pile Driver by heart; it was there that his feet bore him.

Dawn came, and with it, the dark landscape once more was rendered into color. The rising sun once more banished night beyond the horizon as it arced its way back into the sky, knowing not the diseased world it looked down upon, oblivious to the lives it witnessed passing before it. Phantoms of night fled before the rays of sun, beings of the day greeted the morning with their waking calls, while those to whom it signaled sleep returned to their lairs. And somewhere, in the midst of this, the children whose fate would decide that of the world itself, too, greeted the day.

Django woke more peacefully this time, memories of the past day still fresh in his mind, and more importantly, of the resolution he had made, watching the other Solar Child walk off into the darkness. That he would gain enough strength to prove the other boy wrong, and carry on the mission that he had inherited with the scarf around his neck and the gun holstered at his belt.

Amber eyes snapped open as the first rays of sunlight fell across the other Solar boy. He climbed to his feet from where he had been sitting, cross-legged, and turned to the device before him, a large circular platform of stone, with symbols of power standing for the sun engraved into its smooth surface. At each of the four cardinal directions, there stood a mechanical device with a large disk at the end of them, facing up towards the sky. The boy drew a bottle from its holster on his belt, the contents, looking to be some kind of black smoke, swirling within it.

Somewhere, a lone figure, shrouded in darkness, but seeing all, watched as the pieces assembled themselves, and laughed.

The Solar boy placed the bottle in the center of the pile driver, where a small slot had been cut next to a larger, coffin-sized one. Grasping the hilt of his sword, he unsheathed it, holding the yellow blade up to the sun and feeling the power gather within the blade. The long blade's curved edges expanded out, then tapered back together to form a lethal point. Dropping the blade back to his side, its glow now visible even in the stronger light of the dawning sun, the boy fell to the ground, slamming his palm on the cold stone of the Pile Driver's surface.

"TAIYOU!" he cried aloud, and golden waves of energy seemed to spread out from where his left hand touched the stone. The metallic pillars began to glow with golden yellow light as the waves touched them, running up and down the wires and hinges of the machines. Then, with a clicking sound, all four pillars fell forward on their hinges at once, swinging the dishes atop them down until they were focused inward, directly toward the spot where the bottle lay.

The boy grasped the blade firmly with both hands, dragging its point across the stone in a line of sparks as he launched himself into an uppercut. The blade began to glow brighter for an instant, then the sections of it began to split apart, the jewels set into the blade itself flashing bright yellow as bolts of yellow electricity joined them together. As he swung the blade outward, the sections grew further and further apart, though they were all still joined together by the crackling bolts of electricity.

The blade slammed into the bottle, smashing it to pieces, and freeing the dark smoke within it, which instantly drifted up into the air. The smoke began to take on a vaguely human appearance, twisted and demonic in appearance, but lacking any potency under the sun's rays. It reached out with its claws, which were little more than wisps of black smoke, but its body seemed rooted to the point on the Pile Driver's surface where the bottle had been placed.

The sword arced back through the air, even as it was reaching back over the boy's head in completion of his swing, he was striking again with a powerful one-handed thrust, jerking the whole thing forward and sending it hurtling at the dark form in the center of the Pile Driver. The blade struck the creature right in its chest, suffering only little more resistance than it had when it had merely been slicing its way through air. The blade's point reached further, extending out the back side of the thing's hazy form, skewering it. The creature froze instantly, trembling slightly, as if some power held it in place.

"Binding spell, Solis Avara Radia!" the boy cried, and bands of golden light shot from the yellow crystal between the blade's final two sections, curving around the creature and meeting again at the sword's tip. The bands of light constricted, forming a cage that encircled the being completely, cracking with energy as it tried to beak free from them, but the bonds held fast. The thing uttered a cry like the sound of wind howling over jagged rocks, struggling against its prison with what little strength its form possessed.

"Taiyou!" he shouted again, his left hand twisting itself in an odd gesture different from the one he had used the previous day, and held it up to the sky. The air around seemed to darken, except for the Pile Driver itself, which was glowing golden, becoming steadily brighter until it was impossible to look at. Bolts of electricity shot from the glowing stone into the four Solar Generators, crawling over the metallic surface and discharging again into the air.

A low-pitched humming filled the air, accompanied by the deep booming sound accompanying the electric discharges. Then, the glow drained from the stone, moving out from the center to the edges until only the Solar Generators still shone, now at this point brighter than the midday sun. Beams of light shot from each of the generators, burning with white-hot intensity, and struck the malevolent spirit. The beams collided with each other, sending out an explosion of light, which tore the dark form of what remained of the Count of Bloodrust Mansion to pieces.

As the sky began to regain it's normal color and the sun continued its upward arc into the sky, the boy scanned the horizon with his amber eyes, searching for his next destination.

"No rest for the wicked… or those who hunt them, I take it?" The amused question came from the exact opposite direction from where the boy was looking. He whirled around, the blade in his hand already separating out into sections as he slashed in the direction of the speaker. A dark, human-shaped figure standing in the shadow of the many trees in that direction leapt off to one side, vanishing from sight as the blade slammed into the tree he had been standing in front of a second before.

"My, my… aren't we a tad trigger-happy?" the voice was now mocking, still sounding as if the entire situation was of great amusement to the speaker. The Solar boy jerked his blade free of the tree, the sections sliding back into place as he turned, trying to face the direction the voice was coming from, but the speaker seemed to be moving around through the forest that stretched from just near the Pile Driver off into the Eastern horizon.

"Who are you? What do you want?" demanded the boy, amber eyes still scanning the forest for any sign of movement, arm poised to swing.

"Who am I? What horrible manners, asking that of me without introducing yourself first. You live up to your reputation, Solar Boy Astor… or perhaps I should call you Solis Accipiter Astor?" The voice rang with barely contained mirth, seeming to echo through the trees.

"You know of me?" questioned Astor.

"Please. You're almost as well known as Django, but by your own reputation," came the reply.

"And you are?" Astor asked again, body still tensed for combat.

"Me? My name is…" a dark figure emerged from the trees directly before Astor, seeming to simply appear there with no trace of passage from somewhere else. The figure reached up, pulling off its hood to reveal a boy of about Astor's age, with pale, white skin and long, purple hair that fell to his shoulders, parted in the middle and held away from his face by a headband similar to the one that adorned Django's forehead. A blue scarf trailed from his neck, reaching almost to the ground. "Sabata. Dark Boy Sabata."

Sabata cast off his cloak to reveal a purple and black outfit that also matched the one Django had worn. A black and red gun hung at his waist, and he now reached for it, holding it up in the air as if examining its smooth, curved surface.

Astor studied Sabata for a moment before replying "And? What do you want? You don't appear to be an immortal, and I don't have time for games."

"But isn't life itself really just a game?" asked Sabata, his tone still amused, as if enjoying some joke that no one else was aware of. "Allies… enemies… trust, betrayal, love, hatred, pain, suffering, joy, pleasure… You watch and wait for your turn, cast the die and trust to luck… And, as always," he gestured toward Astor with the gun in his hand, "there is someone who misses the point of the game, to have fun."

"I could care less what you think about life, Sabata. I frankly don't care why you look just like Django, or why you have a gun that looks just like his Gun del Sol. So just tell me, why are you here? I told you already, I don't have time to waste on games." Anger was beginning to creep into Astor's voice as he spoke, replacing his usual coldness with a heat that was equally strong, or perhaps more so.

"Ah… but that is why I'm here. I want to play a game. A game of tag." In a movement too fast for Astor to see, Sabata brought up his gun, and squeezed the trigger. Black light flooded from the red lens of the gun, striking the smaller lens at the end of the gun's barrel, releasing a focused stream of black energy, which flew straight at Astor. Astor brought his sword across his chest, intercepting the beam of black energy an instant before it would have ripped open his torso. The force of the blast sent him hurtling backward through the air, landing flat on his back and skidding to a stop.

A dark laugh that could only be Sabata rang through the air. "Tag. You're it," he said simply, before leaping backwards into the trees, disappearing out of sight.

Astor leapt back to his feet, his amber eyes glinting in the sunlight. He tore off his cloak, casting it aside where the wind dragged it against one of the Solar Generators atop the Pile Driver. Underneath he wore a dark blue shirt, with lighter blue coloring bracers and shoulder pads that adorned his arms, trimmed with gold that glinted in the sun. A similarly colored, v-shaped area came down from the shoulders to meet at roughly where Astor's sternum ended. Dark boots protruding from the end of simple black pants propelled Astor forward as he dashed into the trees, the sections of his blade beginning to separate even as he ran.

Astor went instantly from the full light of the dawning morning to the relative darkness under the forest canopy. In the instant that his eyes were still adjusting, Astor heard an odd sound coming from above him. He leapt sideways, a blast of dark energy slamming into the ground next to him, leaving a small crater in the soft earth. Astor spun around as he flew through the air, slashing above him at where Sabata perched on a tree branch with his blade, the sections responding instantly by spreading out to reach across the gap between the two. Sabata disappeared in a streak of purple and black as the blade's point snapped the branch in two, driving itself up into the leaves before Astor pulled it back into its original position as he landed.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Astor somersaulted forward, dodging another beam of dark energy, which struck the tree behind him, sending splinters of bark flying as it blasted a hole straight through the center of the tree. Stopping his roll in a crouching position, Astor spun around and swung at Sabata again, the blade whistling through the air as it expanded to reach its target.

Moving almost too fast to see, Sabata ducked under the head-height swing, bringing up his Dark Gun again, and fired off a burst of three shots. Astor leapt into the air, dragging the blade along behind him as the purple-black beams of energy struck a rock behind him, sending slivers of stone flying as they bore through it. Twisting in midair, Astor thrust the blade at Sabata again, the motion traveling down each section as they responded to their wielder's intent, righting themselves into a line once more and rushing forward to meet the enemy.

Sabata dashed off to the left without seeming to do anything more than lean in that direction, a streak of black and purple that left an odd glow in its path, as if Sabata's passage left behind something in the air that took a moment to dissipate. Sabata came to a stop directly behind Astor, his movement ceasing as suddenly as it had begun, raising the gun again to fire, only to leap out of the way as Astor, who had reversed his facing as well struck at him with a downward sweep of his blade that plunged the three sections nearest the point into the soft earth.

Even as he righted himself and planted his feet firmly to land, Astor yanked the blade free of the ground, spinning in preparation to counter another attempted attack from behind. Again, he cast the blade at Sabata, the point of it flying silently through the air only to miss Sabata by a hair's breadth as he sidestepped the attack with all the casualness of someone stepping out of the way to allow another person to pass them by. Astor jerked the blade up into the air, bringing his arm around to slash at Sabata's left shoulder. The wave of motion traveled down the blade, its point burying itself in the ground as Sabata ducked under the swing.

Sabata charged at Astor's right side, his motion almost too fast to for the eye to see, the gun in his hand locked on Astor's chest. Spraying earth into the air, Astor jerked the blade free of the ground, bringing it around to follow Sabata's path of motion. Suddenly, the blade's arc was cut short, its upper half buried into the bark of a tree that had been within its path, preventing the remaining sections of the blade from striking at Sabata.

Sabata came to a sudden stop next to Astor, the barrel of the black gun in his hand pressed calmly against Astor's temple. Astor scowled in frustration, his hands shaking slightly from it, but remained still.

"That's **all**?" asked Sabata, sounding surprised and disappointed at the same time. "It's no surprise you waited until Django was engaged with the Count before finishing him off. I assumed reports may have exaggerated your strength, but never did I think that you would be this **weak**." Astor's face was a mask of fury, his knuckles white as his trembling hand grasped the hilt of his sword in a death grip.

"I assumed that there was at least something backing up that bragging act you gave Django, but you're a fine one to talk about not being fit to be called Solar Child…" Sabata let out an exasperated sigh, the gun's cool metal still pressed up against Astor's head. "Well, if that's all the amusement that you can provide, then you're hardly worth killing. I suppose I better just destroy that Pile Driver, maybe break your sword, and move on… what a waste of time this turned out to-"

Sabata was cut short as Astor whirled, knocking the gun aside with an elbow and swinging at his face with the bottom half of his blade which had returned to its normal state, the rest of the sword still buried in the tree. Sabata leaned away from the blade, its flattened "tip," passing mere inches before his face, as he took a leap back, away from his enraged opponent.

Folding his arms across his chest, Sabata smirked, mockingly adding, "Well, I see the reports didn't exaggerate your temper at least."

Bellowing a cry of rage, Astor lunged at Sabata, sword raised high and sweeping down at his foe's head. Sabata leaned away from the blade, its razor edge passing barely an inch from his pale skin. From there, Astor launched a series of furious slashes, stretching his arms to their limit and extending the blade as far as he could in a brief instant, trying to strike Sabata in any way, in any place. Sabata never once stopped grinning throughout it all, dodging the sloppy attacks with the minimal possible effort, allowing the blade to pass close enough to his skin that it seemed as though striking him was just a matter of making the blade stretch a tiny bit farther next time.

Leaning away from a slash aimed at his neck so that it missed by mere millimeters, Sabata, voice ringing with mirth, taunted, "Well, your determination is commendable, I suppose," he paused, sidestepping a shot aimed at his left shoulder, then allowing a slash at his stomach to come so close to hitting him it nearly touched the dark fabric of his shirt. Then, striking back with a kick that sent Astor's hands flying up over his head, he added, "But you should know when to give up." Sabata slammed his foot back down, pushing off with his other leg and driving his sideways into Astor's unguarded stomach.

Astor flew backwards from the impact, thrown off-balance by the sudden series of strikes, and landed on his back, his head cracking against the ground painfully as he landed. His defiant eyes glared back at Sabata's amused ones, but he remained still as his vision swam before him from the blow.

"Well… I suppose that's that," said Sabata, turning to leave and walking back into the forest. As Astor watched him leave, uncontrollable rage built within him at the humiliation he had suffered, launching himself unsteadily to his feet, he charged, stumbling slightly, at Sabata again, sweeping his blade downward at the Dark Boy's head. He brought the blade straight down, only for it to meet empty air. Dark laughter echoed through the forest from Sabata, who stood atop the sturdy limb of an overhanging tree, looking back down at the Solar boy, eyes dancing with laughter.

"Attacking an opponent who chose to abandon the fight? You're quite an interesting fellow, Solis Accipiter Astor," he laughed from his perch.

Astor glared back at him with murderous eyes, growling in a low voice "The next time we meet… I'll kill you…"

"Excellent, excellent. Keep that rage close to your heart. Let it be the force that pushes you forward, that drives you to new heights. After all… how you handle losing is part of the game too." And with that, he leapt off the branch, vanishing into the canopy overhead, his laughter still ringing throughout the forest.

The setting sun hung in the air above, its fading rays of light painting the landscape with reds and golds. A lone figure wrapped in a dark cloak scanned the sky with amber eyes. "Acus Punctum," he said softly, and a faint line of golden light extended from the blade in his hand, pointing off into the forest before him. Placing the blade back in its sheath on his back, he took off, his next target sighted.

_As promised, here are some translations of the Latin used in this chapter._

_Solis Avara Radia! – Sun's grasping ray_

_Solis Accipiter – Sun's Hawk, Hawk of the Sun (This may be an improper use of the genitive case, as in this case, the word 'of' is being used in the sense of origin, which I believe uses the word 'de' and the ablative case, but it sounds better like this. Stupid English with your single words having so many different ways of being used…)_

_Acus Punctum- Compass point, literally. I suppose I could make Acus genitive (a case of nouns that indicates possession, among other things. The equivalency of an 's or the word 'of' in English) so that it becomes Compass' point, but I think that this works as it is… _

_Astor – Okay, this isn't really Latin… I think it's… Old English or some such thing that's derived from a word meaning "Hawk-like," which makes Solis Accipiter Astor sort of redundant, but hey, no one would be the wiser if I didn't come out and say it, so…_

_I promise we'll see Django next chapter, really I do! But there was no convenient way to work him in here, and I intend on keeping the number of scene switches in each chapter to a minimum, so that the chapters don't become too long, meaning that I'm able to update more frequently than if I was trying to put out 20 pages (by MS Word's standards) per chapter. But yes, next chapter's focusing on Django, and how he's going to stop sucking quite so much by comparison…Give me a week, hopefully, less if I'm especially inspired (and homework-allowing)._


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